Mirrors
by jc'amour
Summary: The story of Susan Pevensie. Does she really forget? Or is she just hiding behind all the makeup, searching for herself in the mirror? Series of consecutive one-shots.
1. Goodbye

_There's nothing good about goodbye  
Just say goodbye  
Falling, falling harder  
You're falling apart_

_--_

That summer as I was given the privilege of accompanying my parents to America, excitement overcame me, and I could do nothing but accept. Upon reaching the large, foreign country. I was shocked to see the tall buildings, to taste the strange food, and to see the different faces. Their language was fairly different from ours, but the conversations I had with some of the citizens were quite entertaining. I found myself relaxing each day, falling into a sense of happiness...but each day, the memories would haunt me, and desperately I tried to let go. Even with its magnificence, America could not be a replacement to the wonderful home I had...but then again, what was home? England could not fill this emptiness inside of me, but then again, I could not go back to _that _place, the place which was a temptation, a life I was never allowed.

It was awkward having father back, he rarely spoke, and kept to himself more often – but I didn't question or pry at him, for I understood the stress and trauma he was constantly reliving each day. So as I sat silently on that plane watching my mother read her book, and my father stare out into the land below, I was left with no choice but to wonder and imagine the life that was going on in Narnia.

That's why it surprised me, that as I arrived home that summer, from a trip that alleviated me from the past events, I came to find that they had returned – only rekindling feelings I had wished to forget. But, being the caring person I was, I allowed them to share their adventure with me – hoping to hide the sense of hurt I felt deep inside. As I listened intently to their stories, I couldn't help but feel sadness and regret overcome me. I was once part of these stories, but now all I could do was sit and listen, rather than take part in forming the words that would express my memories. Forever I would be excluded from adventures that _they_ were allowed to continue, and it shattered me each day. I tried to be strong, I was older than them, and had to compose myself in a certain way as to not to worry them.

After listening to their joyous story, I lay in bed, with tears streaming down my face. Fear was washing over me, as I realized that a home I had learned to cherish was fading away, slipping in between my fingers, disappearing from my grasp. Staring out into the stars, the night sky could not compare to the skies I lived under for awhile, back then. Silently I sobbed myself to sleep, dreaming of a life that I could have had. The words _"Once a queen of Narnia, always a queen of Narnia_" seemed to not ring true – for I could not feel my title anymore, I was no longer in control, in command, for I lived my life as a teenager once again.

Truth was, it was arduous this time – and I found myself falling to the floor when I was alone – for deep down I knew there was no return. After our final goodbye, I felt out of place upon returning to England. My school uniform seemed to fit my body awkwardly, and I couldn't find comfort in the strange, yet familiar, fabrics. Classes were a bore, and I found myself sitting mindlessly in class, doodling away as the teacher continued to speak of topics I found useless. Life was continuing – following a sense of routine – rather than an adventure.

Ever since their return, things became difficult. Narnia became the focus of my thoughts, and continuously question after question popped into my head, and I drew the answers in my mind – but after a while I gave up on imagining, for I would never have my questions answered.

I longed for the bow and arrow which used to fit perfectly in my hands. I missed the smell of fresh air, sometimes remembering the scent as it lingered in my nose; yet I always forgot that as soon as I would open the door, I would be welcomed by the aromas of smoke. No longer could I talk to creatures people thought to be only make-believe, or to fly in the sky as a griffin carried me upon its giant wings. The puzzle pieces no longer fit – I was out of place. I didn't fancy the boys here, did not find magazines and gossip to be entertaining, and found that the food was not as delicious as the delicacies I was able to partake in. Life here felt dreary.

Unfortunately, even though I held all these thoughts and feelings deep within myself, I could not confide them with anyone. I preferred to keep to myself – and little by little, I found myself isolating myself – keeping myself from saddening or worrying those who cared for me. I knew things were challenging, and I was weak – for more than often I found myself sketching images of my past life, or crying, watching my tears fall upon my homework. I tried to conceal all of this, but when I was discovered, I reassured them that it was all hormones, all the tragedies of adolescence. But, I never stopped to check if they accepted it, I had enough issues to deal with.

I didn't want to admit that I was drowning in a deeper depression, letting the darkness engulf me, but I had no other choice. I could either allow the memories to haunt me forever, or to move on. More often than not, I was haunted by the memories – as they formed dreams or nightmares at night as I slept, escaping into the world I once knew – even if only for a while.

Finally I broke down. The wall I tried to construct within myself, the one I had worked hard to keep all my emotions at bay, fell apart. That night, as the house fell silent – I stepped outside into my backyard – and fell onto my knees. For once I allowed the noise to escape my lips as I sobbed all the tears I kept inside, listening to the noise as it was echoing throughout the neighbourhood. The wind blew against my face, cooling me down as it touched my stream of tears.

Through all my pain, I didn't notice the three sets of footsteps coming towards me. As I felt someone's arms come around me, I have no idea what came over me, but I shrugged it away, pushing myself further from them. I was distancing myself away from everything...and everyone that brought back those images.

I had no idea if they left, or just stood there, watching me cry into my shaking hands. For this there was no excuse, no other explanation. For once I felt alone.

_Where was the good in goodbye?_


	2. Masks

_You ask me why I change the color of my hair, yeah  
You ask me why I need thirty two pairs of shoes to wear  
You seem to ask me why I got a lot of things it's just a chick thing  
You ought to let it go and try to understand but you don't have a clue_

_--_

The knocks at my door were becoming frequent, as the hour drew to a close. Ignoring the voices that were constantly asking for me, constantly trying to make me understand them, I continued applying layer after layer – hoping to hide the girl behind this mask that I continued to wear. Once upon a time I knew myself, but hitting my head with reality – I gave up on a lot of things.

The war was over, and dad came home; but things still weren't the same. And I doubted they ever would be, once again.

We all expected smiles and laughter; nights filled with family warmth and love – but we didn't get that. Instead nights remained silent, scars never touched, and questions left unanswered. Though it pained all four of us, we never bothered asking – I never bothered asking. We had grown so accustomed to our independence, to living each day wondering if it was to be our last – that the images of all events that happened before seemed to be forgotten. Family was no longer a part of my vocabulary – father abandoned us before in order to defend faces and people he would never know – leaving a frail mother and four kids. To me, these were people I lived with, that constantly wanted to invade my privacy, my whereabouts, and my life.

So, instead of wasting my time in trying to piece back our already broken lives, I moved on – finding comfort and security in a single tube of lipstick I found underneath my bed. I was a reasonable person – I still am ... but after applying a thin layer onto my lips, I found a temptation – an addiction. Soon one tube became two, then there were pencils, and bottles, and mirrors, and brushes – my room was no longer a simple shade of brown, but shades of reds and pinks littered each corner; hiding all that used to be there.

They said they were worried about me, pestering me about my obsessions in wasting my money on new fashions that kept invading our town. But who were they to judge me? They didn't understand me, and they never would. I was grown up now, and their ignorant minds couldn't accept it. Instead of letting me go, letting me move on from my child like manners – they kept grabbing onto me, hoping I could somehow imagine a once upon a time life in a magical kingdom. I never pretended. And even if I had to see tears spill out of her eyes, or continue to experience argument after argument with my brash brother – I didn't mind – I just kept looking in that mirror, putting on shades of red.

But, even though I knew I didn't see this world they believed in, even though I ignored their pleas and requests – I kept a secret, hoping to conceal it from all those around me, keeping it for myself. The truth is, that each day as I hold these hues of reds in my hand, images of a more vibrant red would play in my mind. Visions of a red dress would dance around my thoughts. This red dress belonged to me, and I could not only see that – but the greens, and blues, and ceruleans, and oranges, and pinks, and yellows, and purples ... and gold. Walls, columns, thrones, crowns ...

But even if it was only for a second that I allowed my mind to replay those moments, I would then automatically shut down – locking those memories away, as I scolded myself. I wouldn't admit defeat – proving to them a part of this past still haunted me. Even through the ever decreasing tears I would cry each night, calling out words I hoped to never utter in my dreams, I showed to them that I was moving on. And they should learn to too. They were all such strong believers, that it became pathetic and pointless. Frustrations would always seem to engulf me once or twice, so as I snuck away into the darkness of the night – I would find solitude in the vile drinks I forced down my throat, allowing the burning sensation to paralyze my body; tolerating the toxic fumes I would constantly inhale, if only to escape to euphoria for awhile.

And, as the sun would rise over the horizon, breaking through the black sky and ruining my night, I would stumble home – bedraggled, dizzy, the stench following me. But I didn't mind. It was a price to pay if only for a bit of happiness. And sadly, they couldn't see that. All they saw was a mess, a lost cause, a fallen girl. Call me stupid and a shame to the family if you like, but those words did not burn my heart, but rather they made me smile. To hear my name hurt me – for I could hear these silent whispers calling for me each night, voices I didn't want to hear, or remember – so I preferred the insults and yells that were directed to me.

I was no longer a girl who believed in fairy tales. I threw out all my storybooks, hoping to never find my dreams revolving around the _happily ever afters_. Instead I escaped into the night, drowning myself in the large groups of bodies and the deafening music. I would go to the stores, spending all my savings, not caring about the suffering my family had to endure. I covered up all the pain and fear I had, with lipstick, and blush, and eye shadow, and clothes. Only once or twice did I run to that subway station, wiping away stray tears that only seemed to erupt out of my eyes, from somewhere deep within me.

But gradually I changed. I broke the chains that linked me to the people who cared for me. I hoped to destroy all evidence of a past I didn't want to reminisce about. So, I connected myself to another world – I world who didn't know me, because behind all this make-up, I was a fake. I was the girl, hiding behind this mask, searching for herself in the mirror.


	3. Dreams

_I shut my eyes in search of sleep  
Tossed and turned and hoped for dreams  
Awakened by a voice that was so clear,  
It felt so near to me_

--

My name. My horrible name. I could hear it being carried by the winds each night, watching the stars form the letters so smoothly in the sky. I tried covering my ears each night, squeezing my eyes shut, hoping to silence whatever it was. It never worked. I snuggled underneath my blanket, burying myself deeper and deeper into the cushions beneath me, but still the words broke the barrier I was protecting myself with. They were carrying words I hadn't heard in a while. Distractions felt limited at night, but trying as hard as I could I would pick up a magazine, skimming through the various pages, hoping to block out the voices with sentences about fashion and colours. Sleep was nowhere near, but I preferred to be awake and prepared for the battles that tried to attack me each night.

For the past week, I found myself doing just that, keeping away, as sleep was being deprived from me. The times when I could find myself closing my eyes, into the sweet peace of darkness, I was then forced upwards – jolting up from my bed. The creaks of the house, and the night sounds did not frighten me – rather the figure in the vanity that stared at me, kept me awake more than often. Dreams would haunt me, if only a few seconds would appear in my thoughts. Voices kept whispering in my ears, and though the warmth of my blanket surrounded me, I could feel the frigid, cold winds. Snow. I could feel ice cold eyes piercing into me, a cool breath being blown across my body.

Yet, sometimes, at night I was greeted by warm rays of sunlight that danced upon my pale skin. I could smell evergreen forests, and see a vast ocean ebb and flow against the sandy beach, as I followed the paw prints of a lion that lead to far distances. And other times, I saw nothing but a pitch black colour that extended into the faraway lands. I could hear yells, and cries, and the clashing of metal upon metal.

Lately, that familiar illusion continued to come into my thoughts, and I wasn't strong enough to withstand the fear that was rushing through my veins. As if by instinct, my fingers would reach out for my side, searching for the weapon that had long disappeared. And as I cowered in fear, I would just stare at my ceiling, counting the specks up there – creating images with the small dots – until the oranges of the sun would dance in my room through the slightly parted curtains.

Nights were no longer welcoming, and even as I tried escaping into the wilderness of reality, I could not find comfort in my usual antics. Entering euphoria was no longer pleasing; in trying to drown myself in bliss, I only found that I was resurfacing back to the problems that lead me here. The strangers around me, questioned me – staring at me with glances that yelled _psycho_. Although, like usual I didn't mind. They were just faces that would form into one big blob, that I would soon forget.

Forgetting was soon becoming a hobby of mine. I started ignoring responsibilities to indulge in my own privileges. I skipped class, not caring as my marks decreased to frightening numbers. I sometimes didn't come home at night, just moving to where my feet were taking me. I stopped living. In a sense, I was a zombie – following every other sheep in this bloody city. The girl they once knew, was gone. Vanished. Replaced with someone who now liked magazines, and boys, and trends.

If I could not be accepted by a place that I knew belonged to me, I would forge my path into a new world that would. Even if it meant that as I lived each day as I did all the others, my nights would haunt me with songs and stories. Once in a while, secretly, I gave in, walking through my dreams step by step. But as I stared at myself in the golden mirrors that covered the halls, I didn't see a reflection. It did not shock me, nor sadden me. I just passed by, allowing my eyes to drift to the next one – not minding that in the midst of the mirror, there was no face that would look back at me.

And I would follow this routine, this process. Each night I would no longer care to sleep, tossing and turning to find that key that would allow me to surrender to slumbering. Instead, I waited for the voices - their voices - that would call me once more. Asking for me. Scaring me. Taunting me. Believing in me. Sometimes I wondered if they could hear them too, but staring to my left, I realized the didn't. For as she slept, she was in her own dreams – never seeing the torturous routine I continued each night.

If I was in dire pain, a blade I kept underneath my bed would find solace in my hand. It reassured me, as it scraped against my skin. Red. I could sense that it was escaping, taking all my anxiety away with it. And even though the sting would last for awhile, even as I held my tears back, I would soon find relief from the horrendous images I saw sometimes. The lines that traced my hands, created stories of their own, blending in with the thoughts that continuously lingered. Each line held hundreds of words, mixing in with the confusion that already possessed me.

Silently though, as these screams deep within my throat wanted to escape, I would just bury myself into my pillow – hissing. I was not ready to accept my faith and beliefs again. I preferred to endure the psychotic experiences that overcame me each night. I would let the voices play, then mute them out after their pleas. Never deeply listening to the words that they spewed.

Sometimes I endured hours upon hours, until dizziness would conquer me, and sometimes, it was mere seconds that I was exposed to this once more. And if lucky, they wouldn't haunt me at all. Rather allowing me one night's bit of tranquility.

And as always, I would cover up the evidence, hiding the black bags underneath my eyes with my makeup.


	4. Pretend

_Hey said the lady with a bittersweet look in her eye  
"What a beautiful day," she pretended as her voice disappeared in a cry  
I'll write you out of the story like you knew that I would  
Living happily ever after never happens for good_

_--_

The paperwork in front of me felt continuous, as if it would never stop. Word after word made no sense to me, and pain was shooting into my brain as a headache was forming. Distant chatter sounded like a drone of bees, as I sat in my stiff chair – breathing slowly, as the clock lingered over the seconds longer than usual. My coffee cup lay untouched, and as I put it to my lips, I only felt the bitter cold taste enter my mouth. Quickly I spat it back out. Boredom was an understatement.

As I shut my eyes, I was pushed into a few seconds of relaxation; only to be awoken by a tap at my shoulder. As I looked up I was shocked to see a familiar face: brown hair, tan skin, chestnut eyes, that same smile. My throat ran dry, shock came over me and I closed my eyes shaking my head – upon opening them, the illusion had disappeared. Instead, I was face to face with an overly concerned colleague. He had red hair, green eyes, and freckles all over his pale face. I took a deep breath; I was silly to believe _he_ of all people would be here.

I plastered a smile across my face, and listened intently to his bemused ranting, speaking about the company's condition going downhill. And, like usual, he was putting a bigger burden on my shoulders, handing me double the amount of paperwork that was already visible on my desk. But, once again I plastered a smile on my face, pretending that I was more than grateful to accept another task.

Turning around to the new set of words, dizziness erupted, and I pinched the bridge of my nose. In all my years, I had never had to handle so many sheets. Even when I was queen, I distracted myself from it all by escaping into the courtyards...

I suddenly caught myself. What the bloody heck was I thinking? Shutting my eyes I slapped my hand to my forehead, trying to alleviate myself from my childhood adventures. How stupid of me. I sighed and continued on with my work, the blue pen in my hand.

After hours of constant strain, I was finally dismissed if only for a while.

Running out of the building, I found a bench around the corner and plopped myself down. Unwrapping the sandwich I had packed, I took a few bites, but found myself enjoying the sunshine rather than eating. It was a beautiful day. As I sat there, my hands in my lap, I shut my eyes and listened to the sounds around me. Footsteps, car horns, chatter. This was...this was...this was home. I sighed. I could feel the heat of the sun dance across my face, as the wind blew through my hair – and with it came a strange scent. It was familiar, yet it was something I hadn't encountered for a while. It was hard to pinpoint, and as I opened my eyes to stare at the bustling streets, I still could not find the source.

Frustration overwhelmed me, and I tried hard to ignore it. Instead I focused on the people busily walking by. There were women coming to and fro from the nearby market, filling baskets with food. Men were walking along fashionably, holding onto their hats, as they trekked to wherever it was they were going. A few passed by and wave nicely to me, and as every other day I would put on a smile and wave back.

A mother with her four children was passing by, and she gingerly smiled at me. I smiled back, but was suddenly focused on the children. There were four of them. Two girls and two boys. The girls had brown hair, one boy had black, and another was blond. It was déjà vu. The children continued on playing, holding onto their hands, chanting faint words and phrases that I had to strain my ear to hear them. Listening intently to their games, I discovered that they were pretending to be Kings and Queens of a magical land, that had dragons, and castles, and unicorns. I smirked. I prided myself at the moment, knowing that those days were truthfully just events of imagination and pretend.

Amusement was reflected on my face, as I watched the group disappear into the distance.

_If only they knew. If only ..._

But, that was my choice. That night years ago as I cried into my hands, making a decision. I pushed them away...truth was I pushed myself away. I had distanced myself in order to save myself. But here I was now, still dying and drowning in vague sorrows. Words no longer connected us. They gave up, and I stopped trying. They continued on believing...and I didn't. We lived our lives, but I realize that they held onto a faith that I was no longer a part of.

_He_ was a businessman now, working hours like father once had._ He _had become a teacher, studying history and such. And _she _was finishing her schooling; writing and painting at the same time. And here I was, working in a cramped office, eating lunch outside every single day. Thinking about them. I sighed. I remembered running to the train station, watching him get in another fight. I remember her calling my name. I remember hugs and laughter. I remember stories, and...and adventures...and the fear of war—and how he ran inside to get that picture. These memories that I still somehow cherished, as if laying in a dusted scrapbook, could not compare to the real thing.

A stray tear fell from my eyes, and I frantically wiped it away with the back of my hand. It was no use crying over lost things you knew were to never be found. No use at all. Picking up my leftovers, I walked back into the grey building, and ran to the washroom. Opening my purse, my fingers were shaking and it took me a while to take out my necessities.

Slowly I redid my face, hoping to hide all signs of weakness. I scoffed. All these years as I searched in that mirror for a girl they believed was still there, I had finallly come to terms that she wasn't and never would be. Instead, I saw a grown up lady, living a regular life, working a regular job, and putting on her regular face. Family, what was that word anymore? Really, it was just me.

They had accepted this, and I no longer appeared in the pages of their life. They had erased me, written me out of their story, as I had done to them.


	5. Prisoner

_No one knows you anymore  
You're lost inside the walls you've built  
No one knows you anymore  
A prison deep within your soul_

_--_

My head was becoming woozy as I drank down another glass, the bitter liquid burning against my throat. My vision was blurry and all figures looked the same. To them I was a laughing maniac, dancing away, slurring my words as I grabbed things for stability. It didn't matter what I looked like. I was finding comfort in the strange faces that did not know me—and probably never would.

It felt good to finally be the person I had shaped myself to become. It was alright for me to let these emotions and words escape, for when tomorrow's light would rise over the horizon, no one would be there to haunt me about my story. And so, words that I planned to never let out, escaped—carrying phrases and vocabulary I had suppressed deep within my thoughts.

_Narnia this...Narnia that..._

Memory after memory shot from my mouth erupting into the room. To them, these words seemed to tell of a stupid story, of a fairy tale they had never heard of. To me, it was far from that. But, I had long ago learned to treat it as if it was—just another set of words strung together. After hours and hours of carefree actions, words were not the only things spewing from my mouth.

Soon I could feel the wretched burn creeping up my throat, feeling the sensation rising until it was forced out of my mouth onto the innocent strangers and objects. The room was spinning and heat was filling up my body. But, soon, a cool hand was placed upon my wrist tightly, dragging me out into the night. Coldness, quickly nipped at my body, and through my confusion I found a nearby bench—which I happily plopped onto.

Laughter escaped from my mouth, but it felt like a foreign sound, echoing down through the empty street. The night was silent, with only the chirping of crickets and the sounds resonating from the building, to fill the atmosphere. It was still. My weakened body heaved great gulps of air into my lungs, as my exhales formed small clouds in the frigid weather. Faint amounts of snow had fallen, and the white colour lightly decorated the empty grounds.

The wind howled, as if singing songs to wolves as the moon rose high above in the sky, a bright face staring back at me. I must have been going crazy, for my imagination was creating image after image. Chuckles seemed to escape my lips every few seconds, but were soon replaced with stray tears tracing faint lines down my cheeks.

I had used to hate the taste of those drinks, for they could not compare to a flavour I had had years ago, but I still indulged in it. Hoping to dilute the taste of a past drink I had never discovered here. And each time, I found myself bedraggled in the morning, or in a stranger's house—with no memories of the night before. I seemed to be good at forgetting.

Staring at my arm, I could see faint lines scarring the surface. They seemed muted now, no longer speaking words of their stories, rather they just reminded me of the cool metal that would scrape against my skin whenever I found myself fading into black. So, now the scars remained lines, just a pattern on my pale skin. Worthless. Useless. Just like me.

My intentions to come here seem so vague now, feeling as if it was just a spur of the moment. But, that's a lie. Truth is I fled once again, from the harshness of reality. But no wardrobes or horns were involved. Rather, alcoholic beverages were my escape into a sensation that could awaken forms of happiness, blocking out all signs of pain.

My co-workers didn't see me at all, rather I was just another person, in another dead-end job they didn't care about. The bartenders saw me as another customer, another source of cash. My neighbours saw me as a lost girl, pitying me by sending me regular meals that I never touched. _They _didn't see me at all.Frankly, when I looked in that mirror I didn't know what I saw.

My hair remained in a bun day to day, my make-up had aged my face, and my eyes seemed to lose its colour. I looked...lifeless. And maybe I was. I sold my soul to daily routines and drinks that faded my mind, living life step by step. When I chose to follow this path, I didn't expect I had to endure this; any of this. I had always thought if I tried to find a source of comfort to forget about everything that used to hurt me, I'd be happy...happier. But, like everything in my bloody life, that was a lie too.

Truth seemed so distant from my life, only lies seemed to linger in my life. Pain was the "happiness" I knew. Drinks were my comfort. And my makeup, could no longer disguise the ugliness that lay even deeper than my skin. It was nights like this, when I had nowhere to go, where I just found myself on a random bench, that I wanted to curl up beneath my pink quilt in my old room, and just listen to the sounds of people around me.

It was at nights like this, that I wanted to listen to a bedtime story, a fairy tale—if only to find that happiness I once knew. If only to find comfort and warmth. But no, here I was sitting in the cold, with only the fits of dizziness to blanket me. I was nobody in 'nowhere'.

A long time ago, I had thrown words of blame and accusations towards those around me—_those three_, my parents, my co-workers, that stupid television ad...a lion. But, there was no one here to blame. I was alone and deserted; with only my reflection to stare at.

Here in the midst of the night, I yelled at myself. All along, I was the only person—the only one that stuck by my side. It seemed that I was the only one continuously stabbing myself with knives.


	6. Shattered

_I'm trying to hold on but I've lost the will to fight  
Will You rescue me?  
Take me far away  
From this shattered life._

_--_

As the shade of black filled the white-walled room, I could do nothing but feel my heart beating quickly against my chest. Tears were running down my cheeks, falling onto my black dress. My breaths fell short, as I gasped from time to time—concealing my emotions in the silence of a far corner. I could not will myself to stare into their beds, to stare at eyes that would never open. I could not find the strength deep within myself, to look at them one final time, before they disappeared. Goodbye seemed to be a prominent word in my vocabulary, something that was easily said, but this time that word could not—would not—escape from my lips. Like always, I was weak.

Strange faces I had never known came to me out of sympathy, speaking words that held no meaning or compassion whatsoever—only pity—pity that I didn't deserve. For years I had pushed _them_ away, distancing myself from everything I once knew, hoping to evade the stories and lies that I was being fed, and look at how it ended. My wish was granted, prayers answered. From now on, they would rest, shutting their eyes from reality, drifting on into a sleep they would never awaken from.

The images of the room seemed to blend together, creating one big blob of colour. Yet, I couldn't see the colour. For all those past years, I had felt colour blind, so oblivious to life around me. I had spent so long trying to build myself up and away from my past, that continued to chain me each day, but now who was there to lie to? No longer did I have to hide behind a mask and pretend. I could just be.

But..._be_ what? What was I with or without them? I had lost myself completely to a dark abyss and I could no longer find myself deep within the mirrors. I was...gone. As their names were etched on the stone, I felt anxiety overcome me. They were somebody. They had a name. And what was I? What was I? Questions continued to pop up in my thoughts, but they remained unanswered, just blending in with the ticking of the clock and chattering of the people.

Wasn't I supposed to be happy now? Wasn't I supposed to smile, because I got what I asked for? Of course, I was bloody stupid for even thinking that, but didn't I deserve to find glory in my achievement? Then again, what did I want to achieve? I only wanted freedom from shackles that chained me to the past, trying to discover a non-existent key. But, if this was freedom, then loneliness was synonymous.

For days the news and headlines had repeated the same sentences and announcements over and over again, and no matter how they rearranged it, nothing could change the past. Nothing could change what had happened. Nothing could transform the darkness to light. I had learned that, the hard way. No matter how I would reword it, or say it, or pretend to not know it—it was there. It had happened. And now, at this moment, I could do nothing but succumb to its clutches.

Everything I did, everything I did to save me from the pain, had only in the end erupted in my face. I should have known I was never going to win, that the fight I was trying to fight was pointless, I was bound to lose. I should have known.

For too long I conjured up excuses for why I still secretly remembered. For too long I tried erasing that same memory over and over again. For too long, I had wanted to just move on. For too long, I wondered what my name was. For too long, I had lived wondering who that face was in the mirror.

Here I stood, remembering the sounds of the voices of the streets crying out. My body continued to shake, as I remembered the ground violently doing the same thing. I could still envision the sight of the people running—their faces etched with fear. The sound of screeching metal and breaking walls sounded for miles. The phrases that were aired on the radio were still embedded in my mind, and I replayed the continuous broadcasts each speaking the same word even if they used a synonymous term.

_Death_. There was no word that could hide the horrible truth. Nothing could cover up the stained hands or the broken hearts. No matter how you worded the story the ending would still the same. You can't replace it. This colourless world only seems to become greyer and greyer, stained with blood-red. But, if only they could realize that in the midst of all this tragedy, in the middle of the trauma that had just hit the city as well as its people—as we all watched the events and reactions unfold—that it was not the victims of the accident that needed rescuing.

The one that needed rescuing was not within the piles of rubble and metal. The one that needed rescuing was not buried underneath the fallen stones walls. The one that needed rescuing was not on that train. The one that needed rescuing was not covered in blood, grime, and bruises. The one that needed rescuing should have been there with _them_.

That one was me.

So, here in the corner of this crowded black and white room, sulking behind my blackened veil, I cry out the tears that I had harboured for years. But, even through the loud chatter, I listen intently to the distant memory of a gentle sound. A horn. The single note echoing in my mind, as it called for us—for _me_.

In the corner of this crowded black and white room, sulking behind my blackened veil, I cry out the tears I that I had harboured for years. In the corner of this crowded black and white room, I silently whisper a name. In the corner of this crowded black and white room, I call out.

I call out for myself.

Save me.


	7. Try

_I wish I hadn't seen all of the realness  
And all the real people are really not real at all  
_

_The more I learn, the more I learn  
The more I cry, the more I cry  
As I say goodbye to the way of life  
I thought I had designed for me_

_Then I see you standing there  
Wanting more from me  
And all I can do is try..._

--

I had escaped from that room, hoping that the sorrow that shadowed me could be dealt with, without the piercing eyes of those strangers relfecting sympathy. I had run, running to a place that seemed close enough to a piece of reality. As I ran into the iron gates, I found the bench that sat parallel to the bars that held a life I once had.

I lost so much. It wasn't fair.

As the hues of blonde, brown, and black disappear slowly from my memory I can do nothing but cry. I can no longer feel her palm in mine as she quivers in fear, no longer do I hear sarcastic remarks behind me, no more teasing or pranks, and no longer do I have arguments or fits of laughter. Everything is gone. There they would lie, the green grass and brown dirt swallowing them up, taking them away. Far away from where I am.

A long time ago I chose to erase all events in the past that drew me into a land of pretend. I was young and frivolous then, imagining crowns and horses, magical creatures, and a prosperous kingdom. I was grown up now ... hoping to forever forget my actions back then. Yet they, _they_ still believed, always trying to bring back the past – trying to make me take part in their games. And secretly I did, in my own subconscious way, I never forget; instead I just ignored them.

But now, I wanted to hold them in my arms, to cherish them forever. I would gladly take part in their fairytales if only to have them safe in my life again.

But they're gone. Forever gone. It isn't fair.

Sitting on this bench, alone, I gaze into the cage, watching his golden mane blow in the wind. Staring into the lion's eyes, he remains silent – staring straight back. Finally, after years of ignorance and annoyance, I unlocked the memories I had kept deep within my thoughts, allowing them to run free. Images of a magnificent creature appear in my thoughts, his eyes and voice holding wisdom and mercy. _Aslan_.

_It's cold. There's snow everywhere. A single lamp post stands before me. I hold tightly onto the fur coat that surrounds me, I'm freezing...  
__Beavers, they talk. Animals don't talk. They shouldn't talk ...  
We're running! The ice! It's breaking!...  
__The bow and arrow fit perfectly into my hands – practicing, I feel the arrow escape from my grasps. Bulls eye ...  
_  
Flashback after flashback races through my mind. I close my eyes tightly, willing them to stop. _Enough!_ Maybe, I don't want to remember. Maybe, I don't want to see this. Maybe, I don't want to try ...

_The White Witch dangles the knife above him. Her eyes reflect victory and evilness. They all shout and cheer.  
She laughs. It's a horrible sound.  
I'm scared. Aslan. Don't die. Please don't ...  
_  
Stop! Stop! I shake my head, stopping my mind. Tears escape from my already reddened eyes. _Stop._

_Mice. What's going on?...  
I hug him tightly! Miracles do exist..._

More tears fall from my eyes.

_We won. It's over. The snow is melting, the sun is finally shining. I can see the ocean. It's beautiful.  
__Mermaids are dancing happily as they jump with the sun setting in the distance.  
Everyone is celebrating. A crown is placed on my head, it feels heavy, but it's gorgeous.  
Shouts echo through the grand hall. I am a queen._

Please. Stop. I feel faint as the memories continue to rush faster and faster, through my mind.

_Horses. I feel the wind in my long hair, as we race through the green forests.  
__I can smell the sweet scent of this place, feeling the magic that lingers over the kingdom.  
Laughter. I hear the sound echo as we go faster and faster – catching glimpses of the white creature that dances farther ahead of us._

My head is pounding and I shake it violently. _Stop it!_ This isn't real. This was never real. Fauns, and mermaids, and stags, and talking animals. This. Isn't. Real. I don't want this to be real. I don't want to remember. I want to forget .. to forget ...

_We were at the train station, then we weren't. A large ocean unfolds before us. I can feel the cold water as it crashes upon my legs. Splash after splash I find relief ...  
__Ruins, everything is broken. Cair Paravel? I see a small chess piece and pick it up. It's gold. A secret tunnel leads us to statues, to chests, to before.  
I find my bow and arrow, remembering how it used to be – how it felt in between my then calloused hands... _

I was crying into my hands, ignoring the glances that were coming my way. I knew nothing anymore, no longer did I understand. The life I had said goodbye to was trying to engulf me once more. I thought I had grown up...I thought this was over...I thought...

_I could hear the distant clashing of swords. I saw the creatures.  
His eyes were chestnut brown, his skin tan. As his eyes looked into mine, electricity surged through me.  
Caspian._

His name felt strange on my lips.

_I'm flying through the darkened sky, his claws digging into me gently...  
The light of the torch is shining in the distance.  
We're ready.  
Everything feels like a blur. Blood. Bodies. Death._  
_War. They were fighting.  
I remember the horse, we were running away, searching for Aslan. I let her go, defending her from the soldiers that were coming our way.  
I shot at them with my arrow – but I tumbled back.  
I was scared, closing my eyes in fear. Then I opened them to chestnut eyes. Caspian._

I tried to resist the thoughts, regretting the choice I had made, but soon I was slowly giving into the memories, trying to see all the images that were flashing through my mind. I remembered so much, all these thoughts always lingering in the back of my mind, locked away.

_The trees roots formed into an arch. Slowly people were disappearing into its limbs, into another world. Another time.  
I remember his lips on mine, the look in his eyes as I left. I said goodbye. _

_"Narnia."_

The word escaped my lips, as if it had always just been there. I remember once loving that life, but upon returning – I grew up. Replacing the life I once knew, for shades of red and pink. I had made choices, choices to comfort me from the hurt; from the knowledge of knowing there was no return. That I could never return.

And now, after years of distancing myself, there is no longer four, instead there's only one. I once held onto their hands, once wanted what they could see. But now, I was alone, all alone. Left behind, as they existed in another world – without me.

My blue eyes that once held a deep and rich colour, fade each day into a dull gray. I once saw colour, once saw the beauty. But I became blind to it all, became ignorant to their pleas, to their stories, to their imaginations. And I would never be given another chance, to maybe give all their stories another try.

My sobs seem to consume all sounds nearby, echoing violently. But, through the loudness I hear distant whispers being carried by the wind.

"_It's alright. We'll see you again."  
"Just believe."  
"Susan."_

In bewilderment I raise my head and glance back and forth. But looking at the lion before me, I knew. As if the darkness was finally consumed by the light I had found the end - I had found another beginning. This time I would listen. These were words I would not ignore. I sighed, a deep long sigh.

The lion roared.

Wiping the tears from my eyes, I stood up from my bench and walked away.  
Once upon a time I believed – and once again, I would.

I'd try.


	8. Home

_This is home  
Now I'm finally  
Where I belong  
Where I belong...  
_

_-__-_

I smiled. Something I hadn't done in a while.

--

_...Yeah, this is home_


End file.
